


Not Again

by Velace



Series: Swan Queen Week 2015 [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Attempt at Humor, F/F, Mild Language, Time Travel, swanqueenweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma loses control of her magic, sending her along with Regina back to the past. Way, way back to the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Not Again - Traduction de Velace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427064) by [EvilChachouuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilChachouuu/pseuds/EvilChachouuu)



> This probably constitutes anti-hook and anti-CS. If you're a Hooker or CSer, you'll want to skip this one. I love Hook, but I love to hate him more.

Emma feels swirling.

Her eyes flutter open and, sure enough, the room is spinning. Why, she'll figure out in a minute, just as soon as she closes her eyes again. She'd much prefer the chicken she had for lunch remain, digesting in her stomach.

Magic is involved, she's fairly sure of it. Magic always seems to be involved when she doesn't know what's going on. Not that she lives in a perpetual state of confusion, or anything. Nothing of the sort. She generally has a good head on her shoulders.

Most of the time.

When certain people aren't around, at least.

People like…

No.

_Regina._

Damn it.

She huffs.

A baby gurgles somewhere from above her.

Emma shoots up from the floor, eyes snapping open. What the shit, she thinks, promptly falling back down as her stomach rolls and her head starts to pound. Not good, she decides at the exact moment someone nudges her thigh with their foot, and she groans.

"I don't know what mess you've gotten us into this time, Miss Swan, but you better get up before I decide to start a fire…" There's a pause before the voice adds, "Using your hair as kindling."

Regina. Of course Regina is there. Why wouldn't she be? Regina is never not there. At the station, her parents apartment, her own apartment. Hell, there was one… two… three, or was it four times she's appeared in Emma's very own bedroom? Oh who cares, the point is; Regina is goddamn _everywhere_.

And it's then, that it clicks; what happened.

She was visiting her parents. She'd agreed to have dinner at their place and when she arrived, low and behold, there was Regina sitting at the table, looking for all the world like she belonged there. She hadn't minded, not really. Regina is good company when she isn't being mean… to her.

Dinner had been fine—comfortable, even. They talked and laughed, acting like one big happy family. What she can't remember is when she started drinking, as that is the only possible reason she can think of for why she would really like to reintroduce her head to the inside of a toilet.

"Did someone drug me?"

That was always a possibility.

At least, it seemed like a reasonable one when she was dating Hook.

Now, not so much.

"No," Regina drawls. Even half conscious and in an unbelievable amount of pain, Emma thinks she sounds stupidly sexy; annoyed tone or no. "You used magic. Horribly. Again."

"I don't remember that," she states blankly. It isn't as if it requires a stretch of imagination to believe she's screwed something up again. It's been happening a lot lately, though she's at a loss for why exactly.

If her thoughts are any indication, it probably has something to do with Regina as well. Maybe next time she can accidentally erase her memories of her son's other mother, then maybe her sanity would return and she can stop thinking about the damn woman.

"Get up," Regina sighs, nudging her again, harder this time.

"I'd really rather not," Emma replies, though she does open her eyes again. The room's stopped spinning, she realizes. That has to be a good sign, right? "I feel like there's an alien growing inside of my skull, who intends to birth itself by bursting out of my stomach."

"Lovely."

It's obvious she means the exact opposite. Emma is an excellent translator of Regina "You peasants disgust me" Mills.

Forcing herself onto her elbows, she takes in their surroundings and releases another groan. Why couldn't her magic take her somewhere nice for once?

No. She knows exactly where they are.

The Enchanted fucking Forest. And here she thought mountains of paperwork and failing to capture Pongo for the 9837th time is what sucked about her week.

Her company, at least, is somewhat of an improvement. Not the nicest thing to think of the time here with her mother, but let's be honest; they spent most of their time fearing for their lives, and even she knows that her mother—bless her—can be a little grating on one's nerves at times.

Longest week of her life.

"Where…" She winces, grunting as she tries to push herself up off the ground. That'll be her exercise for the month. "Where in this demon begotten wasteland are we?"

Regina raises an eyebrow, a combination of surprise and amusement in her expression. Emma smirks. She may not be eloquent or refined, like Miss hoity toity Queen, but she can take a moment to adequately articulate her absolute distaste for this hell hole.

"Were I to hazard a guess, I'd assume we're in my old Kingdom, though long before I became Queen. I recognize this room—much less pink than I remember, however."

Brushing herself off, Emma grimaces. She hates pink. Spotting the crib in the corner, she takes hesitant steps forward until she's standing over it, staring down at the little bubble of fat within. "Oh my god, it's adorable."

"It," Regina echoes, an odd hint of laughter in her voice, "is also your mother."

Emma gasps and oh. Oh, the laughter makes sense then. Not so odd, she corrects, grinning down at the little midget Snow White. "Wow," she breathes. "She's beautiful."

Regina gives a noncommittal hum. All babies are beautiful in her eyes, even Snow White, but she's hardly about to admit that out loud to the woman's daughter. Next thing she'll know, they'll be back in Storybrooke and Emma will blab to the annoying little twit, then where will she be?

Probably trapped in a never ending hug.

Over her dead body.

"We should leave."

She's barely gotten the words out before the door to the room swings open and they're face to face with a much younger version of Snow's maid, Joanna. The woman's eyes grow wide at the sight of them and she opens her mouth, likely to scream for the guards, before Regina waves her hand through the air with a scowl.

Emma blinks, looking between the now frozen woman and Regina. "We should leave," she repeats, earning herself a scoff and an eye roll as she latches on to Regina's arm and they disappear in a swirl of smoke.

When they appear on a dock, a boisterous song from the tavern nearby assaulting their ears, Emma frowns. Something, some niggling in the back of her mind tells her she should know this place. "Where are we?"

"This, Miss Swan, is where we will find the likely unconscious form of the besotted fool once known as your boyfriend."

There's that jealous note again, Emma thinks. Regina really needs to stop that. This woman and her mixed signals will be the death of her. "Wait, Hook?" She screws up her face. If her mother is a baby, but Killian isn't. Jesus. "How _old_ is he?"

Regina chuckles. "Let's just say he was alive when your great-great-great grandparents were around. He was almost your father-in-law at one point."

"Oh gross," Emma whines. That'll be the last time she ever dates someone from another world. Yuck. "Now I need a drink to go with this hangover."

"As entertaining as I am certain watching you drink yourself into a stupor will be, we are here to find another pitiful drunk and I have no intention of dragging you both out of that tavern."

"Ugh," Emma groans. Cracking her neck, she rolls her shoulders with a sigh and then states, "Wait here."

Regina grabs her arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get Hook," she replies and pulls herself free. "We can't have you soiling your precious clothes, now can we?" Emma walks off, muttering to herself, though loud enough for Regina to hear. "God forbid you break a nail…"

"What are you going to do?" She calls after the blonde. "Woo him with your abundant charm?"

"It worked last time," Emma calls back, stunned silence her only response as she chuckles to herself and shoves open the doors to the tavern.

The moment she enters the room, there are eyes on her and she scans the drunkards seated around the tables. She remembers last time she was here, Hook had been drinking near the back, his pitiful excuse for a crew surrounding him while women, too hard up to know better, threw themselves at him in the hope he might turn out to be one of the decent ones.

Okay, so she might still be a little bitter about not having broken up with him sooner—like before she realized what a lying little manipulative cocksucker he is.

Feeling her lip curl as her gaze lands on the familiar ensemble of one pirate Captain, she turns a moment to stifle the look of disgust wanting to appear on her face before turning back.

"Captain Hook," she purrs, voice low as she approaches his table. "You and I have a score to settle."

"Aye?" He raises an eyebrow, downing what's left of his tankard before setting it down. "And where might you wish to settle this score, lass?"

So predictable.

Resisting the urge to heave in response to the leer he sends her way, Emma forces her muscles to relax and flashes what she hopes is a flirtatious smile as she places her hands down on the table and leans forward. "I hear tales of a certain ship with a rather—" She bites her lip, to stop herself from laughing as the words roll from her tongue with surprising ease. "—large quarters."

Hoots and hollers fill the tavern from those seated around him. Killian smirks, rising from his seat and rounding the table to stand before her. He gives her an extensive once-over, eyes lingering on the way leather pants hug her hips before travelling swiftly up and pausing at her cleavage. "Well, you certainly are a pretty one," he chuckles, finally reaching her eyes.

Somehow—sheer strength of will, perhaps—Emma manages not to kick him in the balls and counters, "You read my mind, Captain."

He may be a giant creep, but there is no denying that he's wonderfully easy on the eyes, makeup and all.

\---

As Emma walks with Hook on to his ship, she smirks as Regina emerges from the shadows by the stairs leading below deck, and she distances herself from the arm he'd wrapped about her waist. He frowns, glancing between the two before he finally settles on Regina. "You look familiar, love, have we met?"

"Perhaps," Regina replies cryptically and claps a hand down on each of their shoulders, her signature smoke coiling around their feet before whisking them down to the Captain's quarters.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Hook shouts, suddenly bound as Regina dumps him on the floor.

"Weird," Emma comments with a shake of her head.

"What's that?"

"Sometimes I forget he's originally from my world."

"This is your world," Regina reminds her. Emma waves her hand dismissively.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes," she concedes and turns to the chest of drawers, hoping she might find the one thing they're missing in order to get back home. He used to brag about the damn thing all the time. _Stole it off of some right royal twit / I can go anywhere I like_.

"Excuse me," Hook barks, struggling against the rope that binds him. "Would either of you care to explain what it is you're doing, or have I suddenly turned invisible?"

"I wish," Emma and Regina mutter at the same time, sharing a smile before realising what they're doing.

Emma blinks.

Regina narrows her eyes.

Both grunt, simultaneously acknowledging the moment and dismissing it as they turn away from one another.

"Fantastic," he huffs. "Now you're playing charades. Why the bloody hell am I tied up?"

Emma is actually rather surprised he didn't immediately suggest they were in to some sort of bondage, more angrier than she imagined he would be given his usual nature. It would seem that Mister Suave, the Leather-Clad Pimp doesn't like to be tied up. Hilarious.

Slamming one drawer, Regina opens another as she speaks. "It comforts me to know that should I grow tired of your incessant questions, I can throw you overboard where you'll most likely drown before being able to free yourself."

Emma chuckles. "That is comforting."

"Mmm," Regina hums, sifting through clothes until she finds the jewelry box. "Of course, the sock drawer. You men are all the same."

"Hey! That doesn't belong to you."

"Nor you," she replies, lifting the bean from where it rests in the velvet cushion of the box. "If I recall the tale correctly, you stole it from a Prince, who in turn stole it from a woman named Jack, who—funnily enough—was left to die, by said Prince, at the hands of the giant _she_ stole it from."

"That sounds like a story I should know," Emma interjects, more than curious. One minute she's had enough of fairy tale land and all it's bullshit, and the next, Regina pulls her right back in.

"A more accurate telling of the tale Jack and the Beanstalk," Regina offers, slipping the bean back into the box before tucking it within the pocket of her jacket. "The Prince was your uncle."

Emma tilts her head, confused about more things than she'd care to list. "I have an uncle?"

"Had," Regina corrects. "He was your father's twin brother."

"My father had a twin brother?"

Regina turns to her, stare practically boring into her soul and Emma swallows. Too many questions. Got it. She smiles sheepishly, relieved when Regina shakes her head and returns her attention back to Hook. Guess her questions will have to wait for another time. Maybe she'll poof them somewhere nicer next time, or at least learn to control her magic so she doesn't bring them back into this nightmare.

"Hook, you are going to take us home."

"Like hell I am," he growls, nostrils flaring.

Emma shakes her head. Poor, ignorant pirate doesn't know just who it is he's fighting against.

"Probably not wise to antagonize the woman with an actual score to settle with you," she warns. After all, it won't do to have Regina set fire to him before he's taken them home. Neither of them know how to steer a ship.

"I don't even know her!"

"You will," Regina singsongs and Emma laughs as she flutters her lashes innocently. Killian almost looks afraid. Good, she thinks, maybe Regina won't kill him too quickly.

"What does that mean?"

Regina taps him on the nose. "Time travel," she tuts and hauls him to his feet with a wave of her hand. "Come along, Swan," she adds over a shoulder, using the end of the rope as a leash as she leads Hook up on to the deck.

Bouncing from the bed and following them, Emma snaps her fingers. " _That's_ how he stole the bean."

"Well done, dear," Regina coos, as if congratulating a small, slow child. "He did, in fact, not steal a bean from an infant who somehow climbed a beanstalk."

Emma groans. "Shut up."


End file.
